


Wassail

by LeChatRouge673



Series: Thea's Song [6]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: holiday fluff, satinalia 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:57:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13008267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeChatRouge673/pseuds/LeChatRouge673





	Wassail

Thea was utterly exhausted, but she was happy.

There was still a seed of guilt in the back of her mind; she hated how much she stressed out this time of year, and she hated how much it worried the people she cared about. Really, she had tried to be mindful of it: she’d tried any number of herbal teas designed to calm the mind, deep breathing exercises, and even meditation, but she’d never been terribly good at sitting still without something to occupy her mind. Meanwhile, the people she loved most had done their best to make things easier for her, and to get her out of her own head for awhile.

It was why, despite her exhaustion, she had agreed to their annual pilgrimage to The Hanged Man for Satinalia songs and boozy eggnog. They had settled in on her favorite worn and comfortable couch in front of the small stage, and at the moment she was nestled up against her husband’s chest as his hand moved in a gentle pattern up and down her arm while Cat and Nathaniel were curled up on the other end. Her cousin had agreed to drive, and Thea was on her second eggnog and just barely starting to feel the warmth of whatever Ravenna Hawke had added to the drink. They were family, so Ven always took a little extra liberty with her creative side when mixing Thea’s drinks, and Thea loved her for it.

“Feeling better, Sweetheart?” Loghain asked quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I am, actually,” she admitted. “Despite the unnecessary stress, I had a lovely day with the people I love the most, doing the kind of silly holiday things I only get to do once a year. And if I can survive the party tomorrow night and dinner the next, we have a whole week to ourselves up in the mountains.”

“You do have a fairly good track record of surviving holiday events,” he pointed out, and she could hear the faint smile reflected in his voice, “But if it will give you added incentive, I have spent the last few days thinking about little else other than having you to myself for a week.”

“Is that so?” Thea tilted her head up and brushed a kiss against his lips. “I suppose that might be enough to keep me relatively sane over the next two days.” She settled back against his chest, breathing a sigh of contentment as she sipped her drink and half-listened to Sera and Dagna sing an enthusiastic and utterly incorrect rendition of the Twelve Days of Satinalia. Thea wasn’t certain, but she did not remember anything in the original about the “nine pies for arseholes” or the “seven bees a-stinging.” She also wasn’t entirely sure this version wasn’t better, though, so she simply decided to enjoy Cat’s feigned horror and Nathaniel’s smothered snickers.

For the first time in over a week, Thea actually felt relaxed, and just _peaceful_. Maybe it was the eggnog, or maybe it was just that she always felt safe wrapped in her husband’s arms, or… well, the eggnog was probably helping quite a bit. She nuzzled closer against Loghain’s shoulder and was idly contemplating whether or not she could sneak back into Varric and Ven’s office and take a brief nap when she was jolted back to consciousness by Dorian falling onto the couch between her and Cat with a huff.

“I am _not_ here with him,” he announced.

“Here with who, exactly?” Loghain asked.

At that moment, the door to The Hanged Man swung open. “HO HO HO! Happy Satinalia, everybody!”

The Iron Bull, who towered over nearly everyone else even under normal circumstances, seemed somehow even larger in what Thea could only describe as being the absolute ugliest holiday sweater she had ever seen in her life. It was bright red and plastered with an appliqué photo of an extremely fluffy, extremely cranky looking white cat wearing a festive holiday hat and a collar of silver tinsel. The words ‘Happy Satinalia’ were written in green and gold glitter over the picture, and blinking colored lights had been sewn into the garment. To top it off, the entire thing seemed to jingle with every boisterous step Bull took.

Dorian had covered his face with his hand and was shaking his head in silent embarrassment. Thea and Cat, however, were almost doubled over in laughter, and Sera and Dagna had halted their song and gave almost matching shrieks of glee as Bull approached and perched on the edge of the stage, grinning broadly at the rest. Thea glanced over at her husband, who seemed to genuinely be beyond words and was just staring, and at Nathaniel, whose jaw had literally dropped.

When she could finally breathe, Thea managed to gasp “Sweet rollerblading Andraste, what _are_ you wearing?”

“You like it?” Bull asked brightly. “I made it myself. Don’t worry, I made one for you too, boss!” He reached into a shopping bag at his feet and passed over matching garments in a slightly smaller size to both Cat and Thea. Cat looked at hers warily, but Thea promptly began pulling off the demure white sweater she’d had on.

“Oh you are not…” Loghain began with a sigh, but Thea cut him off before he could finish.

“Oh I absolutely am,” she corrected. “Are you saying I can’t pull it off?”

“That is _not_ what I said,” he shook his head, his thumbs running over the band of exposed skin between her jeans and her cami as she pulled the sweater over her head. “I am saying that absolutely no one can pull that off and that it is, in fact, probably a crime against the Maker that it even exists.”

“Hey,” Bull protested. “Where’s your holiday spirit, Mac Tir?”

“Must have left it in Gwaren,” Loghain replied drily.

“See?” Dorian sniffed. “Clearly _some_ of us just have better taste than others. I am fairly certain that garment should be grounds for divorce.”

“Oh come on,” Cat spoke up, and Thea saw that she too had donned the festive apparel. “No one is getting a divorce over a holiday sweater. Even ones with as much… character… as these.”

“Why,” Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _Why_ do these things even exist?” Cat leaned up and dropped a whisper light kiss on his nose.

“Because it’s the holiday and most of you are less than sober and they’re fun.”

“They’re hideous,” Dorian protested.

“Well _I_ like it,” Thea announced, chin lifted slightly.

Loghain let his head fall back against the couch with a sigh. “Alright, Sweetheart. If it makes you happy…”

Thea slipped onto his lap with a giggle and pressed a kiss to his temple. “If it helps, just think about later tonight when this is the _only_ think I’ll be wearing,” she murmured against his ear.

He was quiet for a moment, then shook his head. “No. No, that just somehow makes it worse.”

She gave him a light swat across the chest. “You are saying you are honestly going to turn down sex because of this sweater?”

“No, I am saying that sweater needs to disappear first.”

“You know you would still do it. Even if I kept it on.”

“Damn it,” Loghain muttered. “Do you know how impossible you are?”

Thea laughed brightly. “I have an idea. Which is why, when we get home, I will neatly fold my new festive garb and tuck it away in a drawer and, just because I love you, I may be wearing the black lace you like so much instead.”

“That _is_ my favorite,” his lips moved against her shoulder.

“And _you_ ,” Cat informed Nathaniel, “Are simply lucky I am not as sadistic as Thea is.”

“Thank the Maker,” he smiled at her. “I guess it’s not a _horrible_ sweater…”

“No,” Loghain replied flatly, “It really is.”

Bull just chuckled.

“Wait til you see what I have planned for next year.”

 

 


End file.
